


Not Else, More

by ElliottRook



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19701385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliottRook/pseuds/ElliottRook
Summary: Apocalypse averted, execution escaped, surveillance sidelined. It's high time Crowley and Aziraphale quit dancing around what they really mean to each other.





	Not Else, More

Lunch, as it turned out, was splendid, more splendid than expected, more splendid than even a lunch at the Ritz had any right to be. Crowley had planned to try and tempt Aziraphale into having dessert, but before he could even mention it, the angel was ordering the Grand Marnier soufflé. “To share, please,” he told the waiter, with a smile in Crowley's direction, the warm, gentle grin that Crowley had long since realized was reserved especially for him and only the rarest of books.

“Y'know, angel,” Crowley mused, between sips of wine, “Seems to me like we have a fresh start here. Chance to break some patterns.”

Aziraphale blinked owlishly. “Wasn't...everything, yesterday...all about _not_ having to break patterns?” he asked. “We've both gotten quite...comfortable, with our patterns, haven't we?”

Crowley held up his glass. “Well, yes,” he agreed, slowly. “But seeing as how we're free now, without our old sides breathing down our necks, there's a few things we could change.” He stopped there, watching the angel go through the motions of a brief panic. Aziraphale was slow to accept change—though thankfully he didn't struggle with it the way Crowley's fellow demons did. He could adapt, he just needed time, and Crowley gave him a few minutes, waiting for the questions.

Aziraphale finally set his glass down and gently cleared his throat. “What...what did you have in mind?”

“Well, for starters, what's the plan after lunch?” Crowley asked.  
  
“Well, I—I assumed we'd go home,” Aziraphale said. He was keen to be back among the books, now that they were safe again.

Crowley nodded. “Well, that's the thing, angel. They're not watching. We can go home, but we could...go to the same home. My place or yours.”

Aziraphale blinked, and then when the thought sank in, he smiled. “Oh, we...we don't need to go our separate ways,” he said, pleased. “There's nothing stopping us from simply...staying together all the time.”

Crowley nearly protested by reflex—he'd been a bachelor for six thousand years, after all—but caught himself before he said anything, realizing how actually _lovely_ the idea sounded. Seeing Aziraphale considerably more than once every few decades was his idea of perfection. Oddly, seeing the angel so often had made the week leading up to the end of the world almost _fun_ , had it not been for all the pressure and arguing. “Precisely, angel.” He took a sip of wine. “Not that I'm suggesting that either of us give up our flats just yet—“

“Oh, I could never give up the bookshop,” Aziraphale said, and before Crowley could course-correct the conversation, the waiter was serving the soufflé. Crowley swore under his breath, there would be no talking to Aziraphale until they'd finished eating it.

Once lunch was finished and the bill paid, out on the pavement, Crowley smiled at Aziraphale. “My place or yours?” This time it was a question.

Aziraphale stroked his chin. “I've never seen your place,” he said. “You've seen the bookshop.” That had always been on purpose. Aziraphale could've told his superiors that the demon had wandered into his shop uninvited, but he would have no excuse for being in Crowley's flat had they caught him there. He would've had to give away their entire little arrangement, and even the best case scenario would've entailed severe punishment, perhaps even the hellfire he'd recently dodged.

“You won't like it,” Crowley said. “It's dark.” He tilted his head in thought. “Well, I suppose you might like the plants.” Anybody who saw the plants would have to be insane not to like them, after all. They were perfect.

“I'm curious,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley wondered if he was imagining the underlying innuendo.

“I suppose we don't have to stay if you don't like it,” Crowley said, suddenly feeling _nervous_. He wanted the angel to like it, to want to stay, and he'd never done anything for someone else's _approval_. He started leading the way, and Aziraphale fell into step beside him—one pattern they weren't breaking.

“What else were you thinking of?” Aziraphale asked.

“Hm?”

“You were talking about having a fresh start,” Aziraphale said. “We're starting with not hiding that we're...friends...”

“Cat's out of the bag,” Crowley agreed. “After...everything.”

“Yes, well, was that it?”Aziraphale asked. “Or did you have something more in mind?”

More. Something more. Not else, more. The subtlety of phrasing did not escape Crowley.

“Yes, well, angel...” Crowley hesitated. Six thousand years of buildup and it still felt very sudden—he wondered if this was how Aziraphale always felt in the Bentley. “You and I both...we're...fond of human comforts,” he pointed out. “Books. Sushi. Booze. I like technology,” he said.

“I like television, if it's educational,” Aziraphale said.

“Of course you do,” Crowley muttered. “But there's still no computer for the records in the bookshop,” he pointed out. “I could help you with that now.” He'd always kept up with the leading edge of technology. Even if Aziraphale chose to only have something simple, it was bound to be a help in the shop.

Aziraphale frowned a little, not sure of that idea, other than that it would give Crowley a reason to be nearby for a while. But they didn't need reasons anymore.

“Anyway,” Crowley said. “Think it over, but—there are other human things that we haven't tried. Or at least I don't think you have. I have, but not with you. Your lot doesn't go for it, except in very narrow circumstances. For humans, not for angels at all.”

Aziraphale stopped on the sidewalk, and Crowley stopped almost in perfect sync with him.

“Do you mean...?”

Crowley nodded.

“Romance,” Aziraphale said, as Crowley said “Sex.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale blushed brightly.

Crowley huffed out a little. “I mean sex,” he said, lowering his voice to preserve the angel's sense of decorum. “Because what do you think the last six thousand years and stopping the Apocalypse were if not romantic?”

Aziraphale smiled softly, and his eyes got wet. “Oh, _Crowley_...”

“Don't go getting all sappy on me in the middle of the pavement,” Crowley said. “Come on.” He took off walking again, a little faster, even more spring in his saunter than usual, and Aziraphale chased after him, catching up quickly.

At his flat, Crowley used his powers on the door instead of bothering with something so mundane as the lock and key. He waved Aziraphale in ahead of him and shut the door behind them.

“You're right, it _is_ dark...” Aziraphale said, uncertainly.

“I haven't turned any lights on, angel,” Crowley told him. He flipped a few switches and very tasteful recessed lighting came to life, and while the flat was still on the dimmer end of the spectrum, it wasn't outright dismal. “Come look at the plants.” Crowley went past Aziraphale. “Oi, you lot, we have company!” he informed the ferns. “Look alive! _That's_ it...”

“They're _beautiful_ ,” Aziraphale said, admiring the foliage. “I'm not sure I've ever seen plants so green.” He had a potted violet in the bookshop and he'd had to miracle it back to life more than once, having forgotten it was there.

Crowley smiled, pleased to hear it, but he turned back to look at Aziraphale. He looked very out of place, his clothes looking more starkly white than they actually were, but Crowley also thought he fit right in, like he should've been there all along. “Glad you like them, but I don't want to talk about the plants, angel.”

Aziraphale blushed and looked away. “Right.” He traced a fingertip along the edge of the table. “I thought we'd never have this chance. Heaven above, the Apocalypse...”

So Aziraphale _had_ thought about it. Crowley nodded. “I understand, angel. But here we are...let's not waste any more time.” He slinked closer, linking pinkies with Aziraphale, not wanting to startle him. “Unless you object...?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I don't object. Not knowing you care for me.”

“Bloody hell, angel, of course I—“ Crowley turned Aziraphale and pressed him to the wall, gentler than he had in the past, and went in for a kiss.

Crowley had been expecting Aziraphale to freeze up, to not know how to react, to not kiss him back, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that the truth was Aziraphale had as much pent-up passion as he did. Aziraphale wound his arms around Crowley and kissed back, clumsily but enthusiastically. For all his “oh my's” and “I say's” and his overall innocent demeanor, he was hardly in the habit of denying himself what he wanted, and that had always been Crowley, no matter what he might've said otherwise over the years.

Crowley threaded a hand into Aziraphale's fluffy curls before he pulled away. “Good?” he murmured.

“More,” Aziraphale demanded.

“Yes.” Crowley grabbed the angel's hand and pulled him towards the leather sofa. “Here.” He sat and tugged Aziraphale down. Aziraphale sat next to him, and immediately thought better of their positioning and scooted closer, pressing to Crowley's side. Crowley lifted a hand and cupped Aziraphale's cheek, like he'd thought of doing a million times before. Giving in should have been natural to him, but after so long being afraid of breaking what they had, the whole thing still felt delicate. He stroked down Aziraphale's face, curled his fingers around his neck, just studying him for a moment.

Aziraphale smiled a little and reached up to pull Crowley's dark glasses off. “They're a bit in the way, don't you think?” He put them carefully on the credenza behind the sofa, and leaned in to kiss Crowley this time, lips parted softly. Crowley slipped his arms around Aziraphale's neck, tugging him closer until they were pressed fully flush, and then he gently slipped his tongue out for a quick swipe across Aziraphale's soft lips. They tasted faintly of citrus and Crowley realized that the angel must have a lip balm somewhere, though he'd never noticed him applying it. Maybe he miracled it. Aziraphale sighed softly and sucked, inviting Crowley in.

Crowley pushed his tongue past his lips, leaning closer towards the angel, sliding his arms around his waist. Aziraphale always radiated warmth, but to actually be touching him like this, to be soaking it in—it appealed on every level, from his lingering snake instincts up to the most human parts of his nature.

Aziraphale had been floundering a bit about what to do with his hands, but finally settled them on Crowley's back, finding some comfort in rubbing them up and down. Crowley wished there was less fabric between them and his skin, but he knew he was going to have to take his time with his angel—and now they had plenty of it ahead of them.

Crowley pulled back first, looking down at Aziraphale with a satisfied smirk. “Still good?”

Aziraphale nodded, at a loss for words, trying to catch his breath.

Crowley smiled and tipped his head down. He took in a deep breath of Aziraphale's cologne—or was it simply the lingering smell of the bookshop?—before pressing his lips to Aziraphale's neck. Above him, he heard Aziraphale gasp softly, and when he started to suck down on his skin, he felt the angel shiver. Aziraphale's hands grasped at the back of Crowley's jacket, overwhelmed—but in a way he seemed to like. He made no move to stop Crowley in any case.

Crowley nudged at Aziraphale's collar, but the bow tie was a little tight, and he wasn't really exposing any more skin that way. “You're a bit...covered, angel,” he murmured. “And warm. Could maybe stand to lose a few layers, mm?”

Aziraphale sat a little straighter, nudging Crowley upright, too, cheeks reddened and lips swollen. “I suppose we'll need to, if we're to...fornicate...”

Crowley laughed out loud, he couldn't help it. “Angel, we are going to _fuck_. I don't think I have it in me to do anything as formal as _fornicating_.”

Aziraphale laughed with him. “Yes, of course...let's...” He reached over and untied Crowley's thin scarf, and tugged on one end, pulling it off him, and putting it on the table with the sunglasses. He tentatively nudged at the lapel of Crowley's jacket, and Crowley obligingly shrugged out of it. “Oh...” Aziraphale reached out to touch his chest, and he unfastened the rest of Crowley's shirt buttons until it was open down to his waist.

Crowley smiled crookedly. “You'll get to find the rest of my tattoos.”

Aziraphale was surprised, though of course he shouldn't have been. “So long as they're not sigils...”

“No, nothing that would do you any harm,” Crowley assured him. “Never had much need to chase angels away.” He leaned in and kissed Aziraphale's cheek in multiple places. “Least of all you,” he whispered.

Aziraphale smiled warmly, leaning into the soft touch. “It always rather felt like you were trying to do the opposite.”

Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale's cheek. “Now you're getting it, angel. Wanted this for a long time, you know.” He closed his eyes, breathing him in. “I know it wasn't safe for you, even less than it was for me...hell, my side probably would've actually _liked_ the idea of me _corrupting_ an angel, but...that wasn't it.”

Aziraphale kissed his cheek. He understood, and he understood Crowley wasn't likely to easily admit to anything so un-demonic—so human?—as _feelings_. “Quite right,” he murmured. “But now we're alone. Really alone.” He'd never felt less alone in all his millennia, though, wrapped up with Crowley.

Crowley smirked and tried to take off Aziraphale's tie, but found himself stumped as he realized he didn't know how bow ties tied—it had never been a fashion he'd wanted to try for himself. He ignored the deep embarrassment as Aziraphale reached up and simply tugged on one of the ends, and the whole knot unraveled itself. Aziraphale slipped a finger under the tie to free the ends from each other, then pulled on one end, sliding the whole tie through his collar and off, and he added it to the growing pile of items on the credenza.

“That was...sexy,” Crowley informed him, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on Aziraphale's shirt. He kissed his way down Aziraphale's throat, nudging his collar aside to get to the crook of his neck, where he sucked down in a spot that wouldn't be visible when Aziraphale was fully dressed again.

Aziraphale gasped sharply, his entire body arching toward Crowley, which had been exactly what the demon was hoping for. “Oh—Crowley—“ Crowley kept on, wanting to make sure and leave a mark behind on Aziraphale. He hadn't waited this long for this encounter only for it to be easily forgettable. When he pulled away, the bruise left behind was a sharp contrast against Aziraphale's pale skin. “Left a mark, angel,” he admitted. “Didn't hurt, did it?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No—or at least, it—it hurt in a way that felt good?” he tried to explain.

Crowley smiled. “Bodies are funny like that.”

“Do it again?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley went a bit lower this time, more the top of his chest than the bottom of his neck, and started working up another mark. He worked Aziraphale's buttons open as he went, dragging his fingertips over bare skin. Aziraphale curled his fingers into Crowley's hair, cradling his head, and Crowley's breath caught for a second as he realized—they weren't just close. Aziraphale actually regarded him as something _precious_. He'd known Aziraphale _cared_ , probably even _loved_ him, but Aziraphale had to love everyone, it was his very nature. The knowledge of just how much _more_ Aziraphale loved him over everyone else was suddenly staggering.

Crowley lifted his head to kiss Aziraphale's lips again, hoping he could feel what Crowley was pouring into it this time. He couldn't very well tell the angel everything that he meant to him, it would take another six thousand years most likely. Better to hope he realized already.

Aziraphale could feel it just fine, and he wasn't going to push Crowley to say anything. He was here, under the demon on his couch, and for now that was proof enough. He arched closer, so their chests dragged together, and he gasped softly. He suddenly felt like he was wearing too much clothing, a feeling he was sure he had never experienced before. He pulled back so he could shrug out of jacket and waistcoat, and Crowley waited as he neatly hung them over the back of the couch—the demon had miracled the paintball stain off of that very coat, and he knew the angel's fastidiousness wasn't going anywhere. He didn't mind, though, he was finally getting to see Aziraphale strip, however slowly he went about it.

Aziraphale didn't go on, though. He reached out and ran his hands over Crowley's chest, and pushed at his shirt instead. He slid his fingertips gently to Crowley's shoulders and pushed his shirt back, untucking it, and unfastened the last button that had been in Crowley's trousers a moment before, blushing all the while. Crowley shrugged out of it, let it drop to the floor, and sat bare-chested.

Aziraphale put both hands on Crowley's skin like they were magnetically attracted. Just the smooth brush of his hands sent electric tingles through Crowley. Crowley had had his flings through the ages, mostly in the line of duty, but it had never been quite like _that—_ but then, it had never been someone he really wanted for himself. Not like this. Not that he wanted to hold on to and never let go. So it was a bit ironic that what he did was pull away and stand up. He took Aziraphale's hands in his, though. “C'mon, angel,” he said.

“What? Where?” Aziraphale asked, as if Crowley was suggesting that they leave the flat.

“Bedroom. It's softer, we'll stick to the leather out here,” he pointed out. “About time the Egyptian cotton sheets saw some action.”

Aziraphale nodded absently, his eyes raking down Crowley's body. He nearly stood, but instead pulled his hands out of Crowley's and put them on the demon's waist, tugging him close again until his knees bumped the couch, between Aziraphale's legs. Aziraphale put his mouth on Crowley's jutting hipbone—his trousers were slung quite a bit lower than Aziraphale's ever had been—and sucked at the skin there.

Crowley had to brace himself with a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, a wanton moan coming out of his throat, all of it taking him by surprise. Now he was sure that the seduction wasn't all one-sided, and the sensations were going straight to his cock—it had already been half-full and heavy, but now it was twitching and straining at his zipper. Aziraphale had to be aware of the effect he was having.

When he pulled away and looked up at Crowley, it was with the most devilish smirk Crowley had ever seen on his face. Aziraphale took Crowley's hands again and nudged him back so he could stand, too. “Bedroom,” he reminded him—legitimately, the thought had escaped Crowley in the moment since he'd suggested it.

“Right.” Crowley led the way, walking backwards, his sauntering gait a bit cramped with the extra tightness in his trousers. For the first time he thought that maybe Aziraphale was on to something with the breathing room in his clothes.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his arms just inside the bedroom door, to kiss him again, deeply. He reached up to untuck the angel's shirt and slide it down his shoulders. Aziraphale bent his arms to stop him, though, and pulled back. “I'm soft,” he blurted, and Crowley tilted his head with a frown. “I—I mean, I'm not fit like you,” he explained.

Crowley shook his head and rolled his eyes a little. “Angel, no,” he said, reassuringly. “It's not about that. It's _you_. I—this—it's because I—“ He smiled a little. “Soft is one of your best qualities. Inside and out. Soft is what stopped the Apocalypse from happening. Soft is—is what makes you want to spend your time with _me_.”

“I could still be...fitter,” Aziraphale mumbled. “On the outside.”

“Don't want you to be,” Crowley assured him. He nudged at Aziraphale's sleeve, and Aziraphale let his shirt drop. He bent to pick it up, though, and Crowley fetched him a hanger from the closet, and once he'd hung the shirt, Crowley put it on a hook that hadn't been there before. He tugged Aziraphale towards the bed and nudged him backwards.

Aziraphale tumbled onto the bed obligingly, and reached back to pull the duvet down and get onto the sheets Crowley had mentioned. “They _are_ soft,” he murmured appreciatively.

“Good on sheets and good on you,” Crowley told him, as he crawled in between Aziraphale's legs. He pressed their chests together again and kissed him.

Aziraphale pulled back and stroked a hand through Crowley's hair, looking deep in the demon's slit eyes. “It's just—you're so very _worldly_ compared to me...” Yes, they _both_ were used to their human conveniences and delights, but Crowley's taste had always run more modern, and Aziraphale didn't know how much that played into his taste in human forms.

“What of it, angel?” Crowley asked. “You know it was my old side that invented beauty magazines and the like, don't you? These aren't even our real shapes. And it should be perfectly clear to you how much I want this with you.” He shifted to straddle one of Aziraphale's thighs just so he could grind down a little, and he hissed happily at the bit of friction. “That's because of _you_.”

Aziraphale smiled, cheeks pinking again, and he pulled Crowley down by the back of his neck for another kiss. This time he pressed his tongue in curiously, feeling bolder now. Crowley sucked down and drew a soft gasp from the angel. He curled both hands in Aziraphale's hair, holding him closer, and yet still not close enough for his taste. Crowley traced a hand down Aziraphale's body, loving the heat from his skin—it made him feel less cold and alone, for once—and wrapped it around his hip, inching closer to the goal. He tentatively skated it closer to the button at Aziraphale's waist, and deftly opened it. He paused, half-expecting Aziraphale to stop him, but he didn't. Crowley took it as a good sign and palmed the angel over his trousers.

Aziraphale pulled back with a gasp. “Oh—oh—“

“Too much?” Crowley asked, freezing in place.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Just—surprised,” he assured Crowley. “Bit of a shock, _that_...” He nodded down towards Crowley's wandering hand.

Crowley smirked a little and pulled down the zipper. “What about that?” he asked as he slipped his hand inside, stroking along the angel's length.

It took Aziraphale much longer to form a sentence with Crowley touching him like that. “If—if you're asking—if you want—you can take it all off...”

Crowley let go and shifted back to do just that. He greedily tugged at the trousers and underwear, and Aziraphale lifted his hips, and it only took a few quick moves to have the angel sitting on the bed in nothing but his socks—which Crowley peeled off in short order as well. He wanted out of the rest of his own clothes, but he couldn't help but stop to take a moment to drink in the sight of his beautiful angel, unclothed, the way he'd pictured countless times.

Aziraphale blushed and looked down. “Seems a bit unfair to be the only one uncovered...”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Right.” He tugged his socks off first, then got up onto his knees, scooting closer. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to his stomach. Crowley looked down and carded both hands through his hair, smiling fondly.

Aziraphale nuzzled his cheek against Crowley for a moment before undoing his trousers and tugging everything down. Crowley shimmied and kicked his feet until the last clothes were out of the way, and he slipped down, sitting between Aziraphale's legs, and pressed against him. “Mmm, s'nice,” he murmured, nuzzling at the angel's neck, their skin sliding together. “You're _warm_.”

“You're cold,” Aziraphale told him. “Are you quite all right?”

Crowley nodded. “Snake nature,” he said, with a half-shrug. “People always tell me my hands are cold, when I shake with them. So...I'm drawn to warmth. A good fireplace, a sauna, sitting next to my angel...”

“ _Your_ angel?” Aziraphale asked, and there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.

Crowley kissed him softly. “I'd like to think so, if—if you'll allow—“

Aziraphale nodded, their noses bumping with the closeness. “Your angel,” he agreed. “So long as you're mine, too.”

Crowley was grateful that Aziraphale hadn't said “my demon.” There was a very small part of him that felt slightly guilty about the thought of corrupting Aziraphale any more than he had come to all on his own. He wanted Aziraphale to live on his own terms, have a little fun, but he didn't wish demonhood on him. Truly, he hadn't meant to fall, and that was the only way he could come close to justifying the thought that maybe, just maybe, he deserved this—a happily ever after with Aziraphale, as ridiculous as the thought had been just a week ago.

He was silent too long, he realized, when Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Of course, angel,” he assured him. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll be yours as long as you'll have me.”

“I just helped you stop an entire Apocalypse in order not to be separated from you,” Aziraphale reminded him. “I don't suspect I'll be changing my mind on something like that.”

Crowley sucked in a soft breath. “Wasn't just not wanting to fight in a war?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I didn't want to let go of you. Never will.”

Crowley put a finger to Aziraphale's lips. They'd have to have a Discussion later, because those words put Aziraphale dangerously close to Falling right down next to him—it was too much to consider right in that happy moment. It filled him with warmth, though, to realize that Aziraphale would choose him—prioritize him. “Angel,” he said, affectionately. “That's what I want, too. You.”

Aziraphale kissed him deeply, hugging him close. Crowley found his hands sliding up and down Aziraphale's soft, warm thighs, and his attention moving back to what they'd set out to do in the first place. The angel was getting back into the groove, too—the evidence was pressing against Crowley's shin—but Aziraphale pulled back and looked up at Crowley. “Your tattoos,” he blurted.

Crowley laughed and drew Aziraphale's hand to his upper thigh. “Here's one.” Aziraphale stroked over the large image, mostly black against Crowley's skin, a night sky with lights streaking downward. Angels or meteors, it could've been either.

“Quite tasteful, really,” Aziraphale mused.

“Were you expecting naked women?” Crowley joked, and Aziraphale's eyes went wide, making him laugh. “Don't answer that, angel. There's one more.”

Aziraphale's eyes raked over Crowley's body before he realized. “On your back?”

Crowley turned around to show him, the stained glass window that covered most of his back, the picture in it an angel with white robes and glittering wings, with long red hair falling in soft waves to his waist. Aziraphale studied the artistry for a long moment before he really saw it for what it was. “Oh, it's—this was you.”

Crowley nodded gently. “Yeah. Didn't want to forget, but...it's still behind me.”

Aziraphale sighed sadly. “I'm sorry they did that to you. Heaven knows I've asked enough questions...”

“They tried to kill you with hellfire,” Crowley reminded him, gently. “You don't need to be sorry for escaping, angel. If you hadn't I wouldn't have wanted to.”

Aziraphale pressed to his back and kissed his shoulder. “I feel quite the same.” He slid his arms around Crowley, cradling him close. “When the shop was burned down...and you only saved the one book...I was glad, for saving the world and all, but mostly—I was glad that you hadn't gotten yourself killed in the fire somehow. Not that fire can really hurt you.”

Crowley leaned back against him. So this is what it was to be loved. “Oh, angel.” He curled his fingers around Aziraphale's thighs, kneading gently. His chest was filled with a warm bubble of affection, and he was warming up in the angel's arms, too. “You know, we're doing a lot more talking than I imagined.”

Aziraphale laughed as he nuzzled Crowley's shoulder. “Have we ever done anything where you didn't wish I was talking less?”

Crowley turned and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's temple. “I wasn't complaining this time. It's just...not how I imagined this would go. But I—“ He hesitated, tilting his head. “I'm _happy_.” He hadn't realized he was really capable of that anymore. He felt _better_ near Aziraphale, always, but he suddenly realized that he was actually getting everything he really wanted. Aziraphale must have understood what he meant, because he felt a stronger pulse of warmth roll off the angel.

“Me too,” Aziraphale whispered. “I've always been happier with you. Being free to be with you as much as I want...”

Crowley put a finger to the angel's lips. “Your idea of heaven on earth?”

Aziraphale nodded, eyes wide. Crowley understood him like none of his fellow angels ever had—he and Crowley were both more like humans than either of their respective classes and were the only ones who appreciated each other for it.

“Be careful what you say, angel,” Crowley murmured. “I wasn't.”

Aziraphale sighed, but nodded in agreement. “I suppose I should be.”

Crowley turned in his arms, swinging his legs to lay across Aziraphale's thigh, and pressed their lips together again, kissing him slowly, a hand on his cheek, stroking his thumb across his face. Yes, there had been a lot of talking, but how could there not be? They'd taken millennia to get this far, and if it took a few words to put them both at ease, then so be it. Crowley was surprised at how _comfortable_ it all felt, he'd expected Aziraphale to be more awkward about it than he actually had been, but kissing him, their bodies sliding softly against each other, it just seemed natural, like they'd been born to it.

Crowley pulled away after a long time, just enough to speak, lips brushing Aziraphale's. “How d'you wanna do this, angel? Do you even know how?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I _did_ spend rather a lot of time in gentlemen's clubs when the gavotte was popular. I didn't engage, but I'm _aware_.”

Crowley chuckled. “Of course you did. That didn't answer my question, though.”

Aziraphale considered for a moment. “Well...perhaps you'd better...take the lead?” he suggested. “I don't know what I—how—what'll be best...?”

Crowley peeled away from him. “All right, we'll start simple,” he said. “Get comfortable. Maybe lean back on the headboard.” Aziraphale nodded and did as he suggested, with a pillow behind his back.

Crowley laid on his stomach, propped up on his arms, still in between Aziraphale's legs, which was swiftly becoming his favorite place. He leaned his head over to kiss Aziraphale's thigh, and couldn't help but suck down on the soft flesh, working it lightly with his teeth until he'd left another mark. Aziraphale gasped as he worked on it, toes curling. Crowley pulled away with a satisfied smile. “Right.” He crawled a little closer—he didn't like slithering for the most part, but he didn't mind it in this context—and pressed a kiss to the head of Aziraphale's cock. “Ready, angel?”

Aziraphale curled a hand fondly through Crowley's hair. “Yes.” He wasn't sure what to expect, but he trusted Crowley to make it good and teach him how it was done.

Crowley flicked his tongue out and lapped at the head, heart leaping at the moans it instantly pulled from Aziraphale. He grabbed a little at Aziraphale's thighs, fingers digging in, as he wrapped his lips around his cock and sucked softly, eyes flicking up to watch the angel's face.

Aziraphale was watching his every move unwaveringly, biting his lip in ecstasy. Crowley smiled a bit around him, and started bobbing his head, sliding up and down, trying to keep it as wet as possible. Aziraphale was heavy and warm in his mouth and he hoped he wasn't too cold—but he realized quickly he didn't need to worry. Aziraphale was loving every second, and so was Crowley. The warmth of the angel being so near made him feel lighter inside than he had in centuries, as did the idea of being responsible for his pleasure.

Aziraphale cried out softly and gripped Crowley's hair lightly. “That's— _exquisite—_ “ he panted. Crowley couldn't laugh, so it came out as a hum around Aziraphale, and that only sent a wave of pleasure through the angel, who gripped at the sheet with his other hand. “Crowley!”

Crowley felt his heart swell again—Aziraphale was surely addled with lust in the moment, but the way he said Crowley's name carried something else altogether, something more than the fondness Crowley knew lingered between them. He half dared to hope that Aziraphale felt as strongly for him as he did for the angel.

Crowley started rolling Aziraphale's balls between his fingers, too, and that was what put the angel over the edge. He gripped Crowley's hair a little tighter as he came, and Crowley held still, swallowing him down. When Aziraphale went still, other than a little twitch in his thighs, Crowley pulled off and pressed a kiss to the bite mark he'd left behind. “Mmm, how was it, angel?” he murmured, as he lifted himself up to lay on Aziraphale's chest.

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale kissed his forehead. “No wonder humans are so obsessed.”

Crowley chuckled a little, melting against him, their arms tangling around each other. “Yeah? Maybe it's different, then, when—“ He caught himself before he could say it. “When you're...involved.”

“It's better than anything I've ever tasted,” Aziraphale said, rubbing his back gently. “Than the best meal I've ever had.”

“Better than Parisian crepes?” Crowley teased.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, earnestly. “Better than anything else.” He tilted his head back in thought. “Does it taste...?”

“Like skin,” Crowley told him. “And salt. Not good, but not bad. Much like us, honestly.”

“I'm still good,” Aziraphale insisted.

Crowley smiled to himself. “You're very good, angel.” He lifted his head and kissed Aziraphale's cheek. “I want to keep going but it's so warm here. I love it.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around more of Crowley and stroked up and down his arm, trying to warm him up more. “We've got lots of time,” he murmured. “No need to rush. Not like the last week.”

Crowley leaned his forehead against Aziraphale's. “Never wanted for anything, but that feels like the biggest luxury. _Time_.”

Aziraphale smiled beatifically. “I agree.” He shifted to kiss a line down Crowley's throat, and Crowley tipped his head with a happy hum.

“S'nice, angel. If you wanna make marks...wouldn't mind.” Crowley was half-addled and idly thinking about some sort of more permanent mark, but he pushed the thought away for the moment—there were other milestones to make first. He got distracted, anyway, as Aziraphale sucked on the crook of his neck. Crowley let out a low cry of pleasure, curling closer to the angel. “That's—that's it,” he encouraged. It was, as Aziraphale had said, exquisite. The warmth and pleasure coming from the angel coursed through his entire body, and Crowley couldn't have said afterward how long it lasted.

When Aziraphale pulled away and surveyed his work, it was with a smug smirk. “Might have to loan you a bow tie.”

Crowley snorted. “Fuck that, angel, I want people to _see_.” He was pleased that Aziraphale didn't even blink at the language. Maybe he'd let it slide in bed. Aziraphale pressed a fingertip to the mark and Crowley flinched, but grinned. “Mmm. Yeah. Make it last.”

Aziraphale pressed kisses along Crowley's clavicle. “Mmm. I believe you mentioned...going on?”

Crowley cradled the back of his head. “I did, angel. If you're ready.” He miracled up a small bottle of lube, which he was certain was the most frivolous use of his powers possible, but he wasn't about to leave Aziraphale's arms. “Still want me to take the lead?”

“This time, at least,” Aziraphale said, nodding.

“All right,” Crowley said. “We need to switch up positions, then. Probably best if you lay down. On your back, and I'll—“ He shifted away, sitting on the mattress between Aziraphale's legs, a hand idly resting on his shin just because he didn't want to break contact. Aziraphale scooted down and laid on his back, tucking one of the plush pillows under his head. Crowley moved closer again, sitting cross-legged, and lifted Aziraphale's legs onto his, thighs resting on his own. He poked at the mark he'd left behind again, grinning. “Comfortable? Because this is going to get a bit strange at first.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Strange?”

“Yeah, it—it takes a little bit of doing before it feels good,” Crowley said. “Don't worry, it doesn't hurt, not if you know what you're doing.”

“And you know what you're doing?” Aziraphale asked.

“Of course, angel. Bit more invested in it this time, though. Trust me?” Crowley opened the lube and poured a little out in his hand, but he didn't touch Aziraphale until he got an answer.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, after a long held breath. The answer had been yes for far longer than was probably good for him.

Crowley smiled. “All right. If it hurts, tell me, because that means it's going wrong. Weird is all right.” He made sure he had enough of the lube spread on his fingers and then set about slowly fingering Aziraphale.

The angel made a bit of a face, because Crowley hadn't been wrong, it felt very weird indeed to be touched there. It didn't hurt, though, so Aziraphale waited it out. He really did trust Crowley. Once Crowley gave him the gentle direction to _relax_ , it went more smoothly, and Crowley got two fingers inside him soon enough. He crooked his fingers up, waiting for the reaction.

Aziraphale did not disappoint, arching up sharply as Crowley found the sweet spot inside him. “There it is,” Crowley said, rubbing over it, loving the response he was getting from the angel. “Feels good now, yeah?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale assured him. “Good—good lo—good!” he sputtered.

“Better than my tongue?” Crowley teased, going back to getting him properly stretched, scissoring his fingers on the out-strokes.

“Can't—decide—“ Aziraphale told him, honestly impressed that he was able to come up with that many words in that state.

Crowley was practically beaming, pleased to see his angel letting loose and knowing that he was responsible for his current ecstasy. Thankfully Aziraphale was throwing himself into it, and it wasn't long before Crowley was pulling his fingers out and reaching for the lube again.

“You're not...done?” Aziraphale asked, a note of disappointment in his tone.

“Heav—hell no, angel,” Crowley assured him. “Just getting on to the next part.” He gave himself a few strokes to get lube spread around, and nudged himself closer. “All right—“ He lined up carefully, shivering as his cock pressed against Aziraphale's entrance, and then he pushed gently in, groaning softly. “Oh, _fuck_...”

Aziraphale gasped. “Oh, that—“

“That—“ Crowley pressed deeper, nudging forward on his knees. In another lifetime he might've called it divine. “Oh, _angel_...” He leaned down over Aziraphale and kissed him again, and Aziraphale wrapped sturdy arms around him, holding him close. Crowley sank the rest of the way inside, hips flush to Aziraphale's, lips still on the angel's.

Aziraphale rolled his hips under him, quickly getting the hang of it. He pulled back and smiled crookedly up at Crowley. “I think you're supposed to move,” he murmured.

Crowley chuckled. “Right.” He pulled back and started rocking in a slow rhythm, moaning softly. “Angel...”

Aziraphale nodded. “It's good,” he whispered. How Heaven or anyone else could condemn the two of them for this act was beyond him. It was certainly the closest he'd ever been to feeling like he was doing exactly what he'd been designed for, after millennia of being guilted for not quite getting it right. Maybe the problem was that he cared more about what Crowley thought, but Crowley had never made him _feel_ like a failure, even when he'd actually called him as much.

Crowley kissed along Aziraphale's jaw as he kept moving. He loved this, soaking in the angel's warmth as he moved, their thighs dragging, Aziraphale's cock bouncing against his stomach, just _surrounded_ by him in every sense. Aziraphale tipped his head, inviting the kisses, and Crowley kissed the soft underside of his chin, and down his neck, wanting to please him.

It was working, Aziraphale was writhing under him and making the sweetest sounds. Crowley nuzzled at his neck, speeding up a little, getting lost in it. For the moment it actually felt like they came from the same stock, like there was something left of the angelic still in him, and that he and Aziraphale were one entity, connected like they had always been meant to.

Aziraphale dragged his fingertips up and down Crowley's back, too polite to scratch, but Crowley didn't need him to. He'd known his angel would be almost painfully gentle, and he didn't want anything different. It wouldn't be Aziraphale otherwise.

Aziraphale lifted his head, finally, to kiss and nip at Crowley's neck, though he was too overcome with sensations to focus on it much. Crowley didn't mind, he was just glad Aziraphale was enjoying himself.

When Crowley started getting close to the edge, he wrapped long fingers around Aziraphale's cock to stroke him to his finish. Aziraphale dropped back to the pillow with a deep, sustained moan, and with a few more thrusts he was coming again. Crowley stilled his hand as Aziraphale's body contracted on his cock. He pressed in as far as he could, and cried out sharply as he tumbled over, coming hard enough to white out for a split second.

He was nuzzled against Aziraphale's neck when he opened his eyes a moment later. “Damn, angel,” he murmured. Aziraphale was carding his hand through Crowley's hair.

“That was fantastic,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley kissed his cheek before sliding out of him. He laid next to him, and Aziraphale rolled to face him so that he could wrap his arms around him. He felt even warmer in afterglow, and Crowley instinctively pressed to him, nudging a knee between Aziraphale's legs. “Bloody fantastic,” he agreed.

Aziraphale went quiet, just holding him. Crowley smiled softly, and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. Aziraphale sighed in contentment, and Crowley waved a hand to clean up their mess. “Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale's neck. “It's early still,” he murmured. “We could go to dinner later.”

“Later,” Aziraphale agreed. “I don't think I'm ready to let go of you yet.”

“Yet?” Crowley asked, heart suddenly in his throat.

“Just physically, dear. Metaphorically I'm never letting you go.” Aziraphale stroked his cheek. “Have I not made that abundantly clear?”

Crowley's eyes sank lower. “Well...yes, I just...I'm having a little trouble with...believing it,” he murmured. “Not that I don't trust you, darling, it's just—six thousand years is a very long time to...to feel you don't deserve—“

“No!” Aziraphale cut him off. “It was never that, just—there wasn't a way I wouldn't be taken away from you, if...if I had ever acknowledged...” He pulled Crowley in for another kiss, lips firmly against his for a long moment. “I wouldn't have been able to bear it. I loved you too much.”

They both paused, because there it was, the word in the air between them, after dancing around it all day, all week, all their lives.

“Well,” Aziraphale finally said, quietly, “I _do_ love you, Crowley.”

Crowley nodded slowly. “Angel,” he murmured. Stripping naked had been one kind of vulnerable, but this was on another level entirely. “You're the most important person in the whole world to me. All the worlds,” he started. “You make me feel...all warm, and—light inside. Like I never fell. You don't treat me like I fell...” He closed his eyes and pressed his face to Aziraphale's chest. “But I can't...by my nature...I _am_ a demon, still, angel. I'll give you everything, I'll spend the rest of eternity with you, I just...what I feel for you, I'm not sure it's really...it's everything I have to give, but...”

Aziraphale put a finger to Crowley's lips. “Do you think that isn't love?” he asked, gently, and lifted Crowley's chin to look in his wide eyes.

Crowley frowned a little. “Well...”

“Do you think that's _different_ than what I feel for you?” Aziraphale pressed.

Crowley blushed. “I...well, I just...don't want you to be disappointed. If I'm not...good at this.” Sex was easy. Love was a challenge.

“You've done just fine the last six thousand years,” Aziraphale reminded him, gently.

Crowley stared at him for a moment. So his gestures hadn't gone totally unnoticed after all. “I love you, angel,” he whispered. “Aziraphale. I'm _so_ in love with you.”

Aziraphale's eyes got a bit misty. “Oh, Crowley...” he whispered. Clearly he'd been waiting all that time to hear it. “I know. I've known for a long time. It's just good to hear it.”

“How long?” Crowley asked, curiously, not wanting to make the angel actually cry.

“I suspected...oh, I don't know, almost from the beginning. I _wondered_ , at least. You kept turning up, after a while I realized it wasn't coincidence. I knew after the bombing, when you saved the books for me.”

Crowley laughed a little. “Really? _That's_ when you knew?”

“You did something just because you knew I'd be happy about it. That wasn't...to annoy anyone or even to save me, you'd already saved me that time. It was...quite the opposite of your mission on Earth.” Aziraphale kissed his cheek. “It might as well have been flowers and chocolate.”

“I was going to bring you flowers and chocolate once,” Crowley said. “When you opened the bookshop. But—I had to do that diversion, to keep you on Earth. And then—sorry. It felt like too much of a risk after that close call.”

“No, no, no need to be sorry. Quite right. You had them convinced we were mortal adversaries, you couldn't well be bringing me _gifts_ after that. Pity. I'm sure they were lovely,” Aziraphale assured him.

“They were red,” Crowley murmured. “I was in love with you far, far before that. Before the bombing. Before the fourteenth century. Before the years were marked in BC and AD.” He shifted onto his back, side still pressed to Aziraphale. “Maybe I'll bring you flowers again, if you'd like that.”

“I'd take one for a fresh boutonniere,” Aziraphale said. “And put the rest up in the shop.” He smiled a little. “Press one in one of the books and keep it...”

“Awfully sentimental, angel,” Crowley murmured, smiling at him.

“You had best get used to it,” Aziraphale told him, fondly. “I _am_ sentimental.”

“When did you fall in love with me?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale smiled and brushed Crowley's hair off his forehead. “From the very first,” he said. “Eden. When you said it would be funny if we'd got it wrong. _You_ were wrong. We both did exactly right the whole time.”

“Still a bit funny, then, me being a demon...” Crowley pointed out. “Makes me think the Almighty must not care too much about what we're doing here, then. It's the other angels we'll have to worry about.”

Aziraphale frowned a little. “Well...if they come to bother us, we'll run off to Alpha Centauri for a little while, I suppose.”

Crowley lifted his head, and then sat up a little, hovering over Aziraphale. “You serious?” he asked, tone dripping with affection.

Aziraphale nodded. “We...we stopped the Apocalypse, Crowley, I can't imagine that any task I'd be given in the future would be more important...” He smiled softly. “My priorities have changed. For you.”

Crowley leaned down to cup his cheek and kiss him again. “Our side,” he whispered. If it had been literally anyone else in the universe he would've been embarrassed about how soft he was being, but for his angel, it only felt right. They'd been stridently avoiding talking about all of these things for so long, but Crowley would be even more damned if he was going to take it back now.

“Our side,” Aziraphale agreed. “With the humans. With love.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah.” He was wondering now just how much love he was capable of, since it seemed he still was, in fact, capable. He pushed that aside for the moment. “You and me, mostly, that's the important bit.”

Aziraphale kissed him again. “Yes, quite,” he agreed, reaching up to curl his hand through Crowley's hair again. “I feel like I should tell you again, I love you.”

“You're going to spoil me, angel.”

“Maybe I want to,” Aziraphale said. “Maybe you have it coming after all this time. Maybe you've _earned_ it.”

Crowley chuckled. “Maybe you're indulgent.”

Aziraphale sat up and cupped Crowley's face. “You're right. I am. And I'm going to share everything with you from now on.” Crowley leaned in to kiss him warmly, and they pressed together again—both of them had gone without being touched for so long, and both of them were quickly getting addicted now that the floodgates had broken.

Aziraphale broke the kiss and lifted Crowley's chin again, this time so he could trail kisses along his chin and down his neck until Crowley was shivering in his arms, but not from being cold anymore. “You're going to give me ideas, angel,” he murmured.

“I was trying to,” Aziraphale whispered.

“You're _tempting_ me,” Crowley teased.

“Hardly the first time we've done each other's jobs...” Aziraphale pointed out. He trailed a hand down Crowley's back and kneaded at his arse. Crowley rolled his hips forward, grinding against Aziraphale. “Can we try it the other way 'round, darling?” he asked.

Crowley laughed a little, almost like a purr. “If you like. You know there's more to it, of course, there's a whole menu of ways to get each other off...and the same way, but lots of positions...” He kissed Aziraphale's cheek. “But if you want to try it, let's.” The lube was magically in his hand again and he passed it to Aziraphale. “A little bit goes a long way, try not to spill.”

Aziraphale studied the small bottle curiously. “Right.” He passed it back. “Give me how much I need.”

Crowley shrugged and poured out a little over Aziraphale's fingers. “Should be enough. I'll tell you if not.”

Aziraphale reached around Crowley, holding him close, and petted, spreading the lube over his entrance. Crowley hissed a little from the cold sensation but quickly adjusted. He closed his eyes and nuzzled at Aziraphale's neck as the angel worked him open. Aziraphale took it a little slower than Crowley had, uncertain, but Crowley hummed in encouragement as he figured it out, and soon enough he was adding a second, and then a third, finger. Crowley lazily grinded against him all the while, not enough to get himself riled up any further but enough to keep him turned on. “S'good,” he finally told Aziraphale. “Hold on. Gonna ride you. Lean back a little.”

Aziraphale did as he was told, pulling his fingers out and balancing a little on the other hand. Crowley grabbed the lube again and drizzled it on Aziraphale's cock, and gave him a few strokes to spread it around, while the angel gasped. Crowley let go only to put his legs around Aziraphale's waist, shift closer, and lift his hips. It took a moment to figure out the angle, but then he sank down onto Aziraphale's cock, with the angel grabbing his hip to help him balance. Crowley groaned as he found himself filled up, settling into the angel's lap.

Aziraphale moaned sharply. “Crowley...”

Crowley rolled his hips mischievously and leaned in to kiss Aziraphale. “Good?” he whispered, against his lips. He started up a slow rhythm, again letting Aziraphale ease into things.

Aziraphale grabbed him by the back of the neck to kiss him more hungrily, moaning against his mouth. Crowley couldn't help but moan with him—in this position Aziraphale was even closer than when Crowley had been on top, and there was even more touching, both of them having a pair of wandering hands. It didn't take long for Aziraphale to reach between them and start stroking Crowley, making the demon moan and rock faster.

Crowley kissed him again, cupping his face as they moved together. The sheer closeness and intimacy was intense, and he was loving every second. This was everything he'd craved ever since he'd met Aziraphale. The angel held him as tightly as he could without stopping him.

Crowley came first, with Aziraphale frantically moving his hand over him. Aziraphale buried his face against Crowley's shoulder as he was pulled over the edge, too, buried deep inside him. “Darling...”

Crowley panted heavily, hanging on around Aziraphale's neck. “Damn,” he muttered. Any worries he'd ever had about them not being compatible in bed (which really would've been a shame after six thousand years of waiting) were completely gone. “You're wonderful, angel.”

Aziraphale kissed his shoulder. “So are you, darling.” He shifted back to sit up. “Shall we lay down?”

Crowley nodded, and moved his hips back so Aziraphale slipped out of him. He waved away the mess again and stretched out on the mattress. Aziraphale laid next to him and nudged Crowley's shoulder away from himself, but when Crowley rolled onto his side, Aziraphale tugged the blanket over them and pressed to his back, arms wrapping around him tight, holding him close.

“You're warm,” Crowley murmured again, happily.

“You're welcome to partake anytime,” Aziraphale told him, and pressed his lips to the demon's shoulder. “I hate to think of you being cold all the time. I'll have to give you lots of tea.”

“Booze, angel,” Crowley said, though he appreciated the thought all the same. Aziraphale actually wanted to take _care_ of him, and that warmed him up from the inside, probably better than tea _or_ alcohol.

Aziraphale chuckled a little. “Tea is lovely, too.” He squeezed Crowley a little tighter. “This feels right, doesn't it?”

Crowley nodded. “Nothing ever felt right except when I was with you,” he murmured. “Not since I fell.” He closed his eyes, smiling softly. “Can't believe we got more future, much less... _this_ future. The best one.”

“We owe a very deep debt of gratitude to—“ Aziraphale paused. “Adam Young.” He couldn't quite bring himself to say they owed the _Antichrist_ , even while he was holding a demon tight.

Crowley nodded. “We'll send him...I don't know, what do you send a child? Not flowers...?”

“Treats for the dog,” Aziraphale mused.

“Right,” Crowley agreed. “And biscuits for him, too.” He stretched out a little before curling up again. “I want to sleep a little, angel.”

“Right.” Aziraphale closed his eyes. “I'm not in the habit, but...it does seem like it'd be pleasant right now.” With Crowley in his arms at last, it was among an entire list of human habits that Aziraphale could see himself doing more often in the future.

“Then hush,” Crowley murmured, already drifting. “We'll get up for dinner, darling.” And for the first time on Earth, but certainly not the last, he fell asleep while he was not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American and I tried very hard to British but if I screwed up somewhere PLEASE let me know so I can fix it. Thanks!


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